The Five Senses
by lostunicorn
Summary: There's been a series of murders involving exotic dancers, blonde exotic dancers. A few of our CSI's go under cover to catcth the killer. Cath/Sara slash. Don't read if it's not your thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the idea for the story. Snippets of "Voodoo" by Godsmack were quoted for the strip.

--

"I know I'm asking a lot," Grissom said to Catherine, "but we need someone on the inside, someone we can catch this guy with, a

"I know I'm asking a lot," Grissom said to Catherine, "but we need someone on the inside, someone we can catch this guy with, and you're the only one anywhere in the whole department with any relevant experience." Grissom has got to be kidding. He's got to. This woman already drives me mad. I can smell her perfume from here, something light and floral and completely intoxicating. I can feel my heart flutter rapidly merely at the thoughts of what I would do to her if given the chance. I can see her cleavage if I tilt my head in just the right direction. And I can hear her mouth form words I'm barely registering at the moment.

"I get it Griss. And you're right; this case can't go on unsolved any longer. I mean four dancers within the course of a month, no real trace, three of them from the same club."

If only I could taste her too.

"That's another thing," Grissom turns his eyes to Warrick and me, his look almost apologetic when his eyes meet mine, "this guy's a little tricky. He must have been observing the force for a long time, because he recognized the undercover agents. It's why he changed clubs. But we need more eyes in there besides Catherine. And, as luck of the draw would have it-"

"Everyone else is still out on assignment," I conclude. I can't tell if he feels bad because he's sending me to a strip bar or if he knows how I feel about Catherine.

"Right. I want be sure this guy is caught. Before another murder. Before he can move on to another scene. I'm counting on you guys. Ecklie already thinks the idea is crazy. We need to prove him wrong."

"Alright," Catherine said as she stood up. "Guess I need to go shopping before 'work.'" I watched, mesmerized as she moved her body in a snaky twist at the word "work." My stomach turned somersaults. Why did I have to be so damn good at my job? If I were simply average, I wouldn't be forced to spend the next few nights watching Catherine dance practically naked. With any luck, this case will be closed before the week is up. I really don't need to go through any more batteries than I'm already using.

After a crash course in undercover work, Warrick and I head out to the bar, Lucy's, before it opens to meet with the manager on shift that night and get a real feel for the layout. This particular place is huge and on the outskirts of town. It's only been open a few months, but it's easily one of the most popular strip joints in the Vegas area. With the easily accessible parking, themed sections, and twenty private rooms, it was no surprise. Of course, with a place that big, there were plenty of dark corners. Add the crowd factor, and you've got yourself some excellent cover, even with the walls between the sections being made of soundproof glass as opposed to something opaque… Alright, I admit it, I'd been here before. It's not like it's something I do often… Wait, why is Warrick giving me that odd grin?

"Sara," he says, his grin becoming a deep and appreciative smile, "I had no idea that you were a regular here." I register that Lucy herself is the manager on shift tonight and that she's been trying to greet me personally for the past minute. Damn, busted.

OK, so I do come here often. I can't help it. I secretly _love_ strip bars. The smell of desire. The sight of well toned women moving in ways I don't have the grace for. The sound of a killer song as I watch the dancers work their magic. The feel of their fingertips grazing my skin with perfect accuracy and perfect pressure. The taste of the alcohol cascading down my throat allowing the entire experience to become almost ethereal. Besides, I _like_ being teased. I _like_ letting my mind fall into an abyss of sensuality, allowing it to wonder about the next spot where fingertips and sometimes lips may tread. But, what I like best, is knowing that I provide a sense of relief for many of these girls, giving them a break from the aggressive creeps that they all inevitably encounter. It all makes me come that much harder when I finally get home to my rabbit.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," I say as I nudge Warrick with my elbow. "Sorry Luce, zoned there for a second."

"I'll bet."

"Shut up."

"Alright guys," Lucy continues with a shake of her head, "give me and idea of what we're up against." I want to make sure my girls are taken care of."

"Of course," Warrick takes on the details. "Sorry to say, we don't have a whole lot to go on. Most of the trace is useless considering the targets have all been exotic dancers. What we can tell you is that all of the victims have been blonde, all of them have been strangled by hand, gloved of course, and all of them were found outside, close to the bar."

"Great. So all I have to do is tell half my staff to stay home until this is all over."

"Well," I chime in, "that's why you've got us."

"Whatever you say, Sara."

"Lucy, shut up. The point is we're here to protect your girls and catch this asshole. And, it just so happens that our other undercover is blonde." As if on cue, the front door opens and Catherine strides in, her arms laden with shopping bags.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was grotesque."

"Gee Cath," my mouth moves on its own, "I didn't realize that you planned on taking up a permanent second job."

"Shut it Sidle," ooh, I love it when she gets snippy with me. It convinces me she's a definite tease. Hot. "I simply wanted some options." I involuntarily emit a low moan as my mind pictures Catherine's possible "options." Fortunately, she doesn't notice. Her gaze is too busy following Lucy who is currently walking a slow circle around her with an appraising look. When she makes it back around to Catherine's front side, she stops and holds out her hand. "Let me see what you've got."

"Excuse me," Catherine's tone still holding a hint of reprimand (God I love this woman!), "but who the hell are you?"

"Sorry," Lucy says with a grin, "my bad. I'm Lucy Lockhart. Owner and manager." Catherine gives her an impressed nod and relinquishes her shopping. Lucy swings them onto the bar and proceeds to sift through them until finally she lets out a resounding "Aha! This is definitely the most you." She pulls out a long piece of fabric and my heart sinks a little. I was hoping for something that would be a little more form-fitting as opposed to flowy. Catherine simply gives Lucy a wry smile.

"I was thinking that myself."

"Why don't you go put this on and give us a little pre-show."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Do you need me to pick out a thong too, or are you already covered?"

"I'm good."

"What about music choice?"

"Play whatever you want. I'm flexible."

"We'll see about that." Lucy points in the direction of the dressing room before hopping into the DJ booth to start flipping through CDs. Warrick and I just look at each other and shrug before picking a table to sit at.

By the time Lucy had found a CD she wanted, Catherine had emerged and placed herself in the shadowy entrance of the main stage. Lucy gave her a nod of acknowledgement before switching on the sound system and inserting her selection, a moment passing as she skipped a few tracks. Eventually, the silence is broken as Godsmack's "Voodoo" blares through the room. Shit, this is going to be good. Catherine allowed the acapella intro to go by before making her entrance, snaking her way across the stage… on her stomach. By the time the vocals started up again, she had made it to the center of the stage, where the pole was.

_Candles raise my desire_

As if on cue, she pulls herself up using only her arms. I notice the dress is much naughtier than I first assumed. The torso is form-fitting, and the slits in the sides of the skirt run all the way up to the tops of her thighs. It's racy and elegant all at once.

_Why I'm so far away_

She leans back, a certain fire in her eyes.

_No more meaning to my life_

She snaps back, holding the pole intimately, as if it were her lover, her tongue licking her lips.

_No more reason to stay_

She brings one leg up high over her head and wraps it around the pole, bringing a hand up to grasp the front of her ankle.

_Freezing feeling_

She spins around the pole, falling to the floor in a heap.

_Breathe in, breathe in_

She rises as if being reborn.

_I'm coming back again_

She rips off her dress, and I can no longer hear the music. She wasn't wearing a bra. Now, the only thing that stands in the way of my eyes and a completely naked Catherine is the front of her thong. I don't even count her shoes. Why would I? They're stiletto sandals. The sight leaves me breathless. My brain refuses to let me focus on anything but the vision of the woman dancing before me. Fuck the sound of the music. Fuck the feeling of my nails digging deeply into the flesh of my palms. Fuck the smell of my own arousal that is so strong, even Warrick is giving me a look. Fuck the taste of blood invading my mouth as I bite down too hard on my lip. All I can focus on is allowing my hungry eyes to dine on the feast that they have only dreamed about until this moment. The only other thing that even remotely registers is that Lucy has come out of the DJ booth. And the only reason that even crosses my radar is because she's standing by the stage, waving a folded dollar bill. Catherine crawls over to the manager, the look of a lioness stalking her prey upon her face. I watch as Cat rises to her knees and places firm hands upon Lucy's shoulders, pulling the manager in to whisper God knows what into her ear. And then, in an instant, Catherine has spun around, her left leg propped upon Lucy's left shoulder. I envy Lucy's view. The flutter that had started in my stomach, attributed to either jealousy or arousal or both, increased and turned into a wave (definitely arousal) as Catherine leaned far enough back for Lucy to smell her (God, I envied that woman right now), but maintained enough distance to keep the manager on edge. Catherine's right hand then hooked a finger into the side of her thong, raising it so Lucy could slip in her dollar. My jaw hit the floor. The music came to a stop and was replaced by the sound of Lucy clapping. Warrick stood and joined her. I just sat there slack-jawed as Catherine laughed and said, "Good to know I've still got it."

"Got it?" Lucy shrieked. "You're made of it! I don't suppose I could keep you after this case?"

"Sorry," Catherine hopped down off the stage, dress in hand, headed for the changing room. Unfortunately, she had to pass by where I was still sitting. And, unfortunately, she decides to stop. All I can do is sit there like an idiot with my eyes popping and my jaw still hanging down by my belly button. I manage to look up at her, but I don't manage to look her in the eye. I pray that she doesn't notice.

"For Christ's sake, Sidle, they're just breasts!"

She noticed.

"You have quite a nice pair yourself. There's no reason to be such a prude about all this."

Wait a minute. Did she just compliment my boobs? Ah, well, at least she thinks I'm disgusted by all of this, which means she has no clue how wet my pants are right now. I relax a little, enough to close my mouth and regain control of my brain. I manage to look her in the face. Man she looks hot when she's pissed.

"You better not blow this case, Sidle. I'm not going along with this plan simply so I can get back on the stage." She stands there, her arms now crossed over her chest. She expects a patented Sara Sidle response. Well, she's in for a big surprise.

"How did you do that thing with your dress?"

"What?" Heh, heh, heh. Got her.

"That thing, with your dress, how did you do it?"

"Sidle, are you a CSI or not?" She dumps the dress on my head. "Velcro."

"This was where I found her." Catherine was now dressed and we were all outside by the dumpster. "She wasn't in the dumpster," Lucy continued, "just sprawled out beside it. I noticed her when I came to take out some trash for one of the bartenders."

"Have we figured out a common link besides the blonde thing?" Catherine asks.

"No," I reply. "Their ages range from early twenties to mid thirties. Their personal lives were just as dissimilar. One was a party girl; one was a complete shut in. One was, get this, a gamer geek, and our latest vic was married with three kids."

"Oh, Tifa," Lucy sighed. "I love the ones that enjoy their jobs."

"Did you know Tifa well?" Catherine asks.

"Very."

"Is there anything you can think of that might have made her a target?"

Lucy shakes her head. "She was one of our most popular dancers. Everybody loved Tifa." The manager gives me a sly look and I blush. It was true. She was certainly my favorite. Lucy called me the moment she had found her, begging me to come process the scene. She said Tifa wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I had been her favorite customer.

"Wait a minute," a thought had hit my head. My mouth rambles on, ignoring the fact that my brain is trying to send it signals that Catherine has no idea how much time I actually spend here. "Wasn't Tifa selective with her private dances?" Catherine raises and eyebrow. Oops.

Lucy nods as she speaks, "She was. She knew how to read people really well. She only did private dances for people she felt she could trust."

"If the other girls were the same way, that may be our link."

"Good thinking, Sidle." I smile at Catherine's praise as I turn to look at her. Any traces of surprise are long gone. Maybe she convinced herself that Lucy gave us some info before we got here. Maybe I can make it through this case without going completely insane… Except I keep visualizing that scene where Catherine does that thing with her dress.

"Alright," Cat's voice snaps me out of my musings, "take a break you guys. Be back when the bar opens."

Thank God. I could use a good hour with my rabbit right about now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The song snippets here are from "What Would Happen?" by Meredith Brooks.

--

A week goes by, and we're coming up empty handed. Well, that's not entirely true. Warrick managed to find someone who could definitely be our perp. The first night out, Warrick pointed out a man who paid attention only to the blondes. I watched as he indulged himself in a few lap dances. He definitely had an aggressive streak, but not enough of one to cause any of the girls to complain. I wasn't sure if it was because they were all used to the treatment, they wanted the tips (the bastard was loaded), or if Lucy had tipped them off. I assumed it was one of the former since we warned Lucy about the dangers of scaring her staff. Anyhow, all that aside, we were able to pick up a bit of information.

The man was easy to spot. He was short, rather dumpy, and balding. He wore thick-set glasses, constantly wiped his nose on his sleeve, and was missing three of his front teeth. In short, he looked like all of the bar's seedy customers rolled into one. And he always came in between the hours of ten and eleven.

So far, our potential perp didn't look on edge. The few private dances he asked for had been granted, which made me wonder again if Lucy had indeed tipped off her staff. He was getting so much compliance, Warrick and I were beginning to fear that he might move on. The only thing that kept us from even thinking about switching scenes was the fact that he had yet to solicit anything from Catherine. He had yet to even give her a dollar. But we knew he was interested. His eyes would often follow her, a look of hunger and desire etched deeply into his features as they did so. It made me want to kick him in the nads.

The pervert didn't show up every night, and the nights he did weren't regular. We hoped he wasn't frequenting other bars the nights he didn't show, but we had sent out a description, and we hadn't heard anything, so it didn't seem likely. And judging from his first three kills, he liked to remain in one place until he felt threatened. The only thing we could do was wait and hope that he would make a move we could stop in time.

In the meantime, I was beginning to enjoy this assignment, even if it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep most of my attention off of Catherine. By the middle of the second week, my eyes kept darting in her direction. She didn't really notice, but Warrick did. He kept nudging me in the ribs every time he caught me staring. At first, he thought it was cute, but he finally got tired of my pining.

"Why don't you just go over there? It's not like she can ignore you. It would blow her cover."

I ponder his words for a moment. Truth be told, it seemed a little too desperate to pay the woman I had practically been swooning over just for a little attention. Then again, I had been paying fake Catherines for years. I'd even bought a couple of private dances. Why not go give the real one a couple of bucks? I looked at my watch. It was already a quarter past eleven. Didn't look like our perp was coming in. I looked at Warrick, a "Should I really?" look on my face.

"Go on," he said, "Get outta here."

I practically skipped up to the side stage where Catherine was currently moving in perfect rhythm with some bad pop song, a huge grin plastered on my face. I sort of bounce in place as I wait for her to notice I'm standing there. When she does, her eyes go wide, a look of disbelief on her face. She quickly recovers though, and snakes her way over, facing me on her knees, pulling me in close. Again, I smell her perfume, and it's still intoxicating. I use all of my resolve to keep from tasting her nipple. My whole body tingles at the sight of her, and an electric current courses through my veins at the touch of her fingers dancing down my spine until her hands finally rest on my ass, pulling me even closer as she leans down by my ear so I can hear her.

"Sidle," she breathes, low and husky, "what are you doing?"

"Giving you a tip." I hold up two folded ones and wave them in the air. I can feel Catherine smile against my cheek before she lowers herself another inch or so, letting her breath tease my neck. I lean my head back and close my eyes, giving her access to more skin, but I feel her presence move away. When I open my eyes, it's to find that she has risen up on her knees again, a hungry smile on her face… Wait, that can't be right. Hungry? Before I can react or even process what I thought I saw, she grabs my hair and pulls my head back while she brings her other hand down behind me, smacking my ass with the perfect amount of force. A whimper escapes my throat. Damn my libido. I hear Catherine give a chuckle as she turns around and bends over, lifting the side of her thong. I slide in my bills and then allow my nails to graze over her skin. She gasps and leans back, searching for a touch that was only cursory. Catherine keeps her gaze on me as I give her an evil grin and then wave my fingers before heading back to the table.

When I make it back to the table, Warrick is grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" I say as I slide into my chair and draw a long sip out of my coke.

"Nothing," he says shaking his head, but the goofy grin remains plastered to his face. Just as I'm about to ask what the hell it is he finds so amusing, a blindfold is wrapped around my head, and a pair of hands is tugging at my arms, pulling my hands behind me. Just as I feel a pair of handcuffs snap close around my wrists, a voice, low and sultry and full of desire, speaks into my ear, "Sara Sidle, you are under arrest."

Go ahead and book me, officer," I reply with a smirk.

Catherine guides me swiftly around the throngs of people and ushers me into a private room where she settles me into a chair, my arms draped over the back. I then feel my left leg move without my consent. She's busy tying my ankles to the chair. I let out a vocal sigh, showing her my approval. I then hear Catherine's footsteps head back towards the door… Wait. Is this some sort of sick joke?

"Don't worry," Catherine senses my unease. "I'm just going to get some mood music."

I have no idea how long Catherine is gone, but it feels like a lifetime. It doesn't help that I consider anticipation a form of teasing and, consequently, am becoming more turned on with every second that ticks by. I shift uncomfortably in my seat just as the door opens. An amused chuckle reaches my ears and the door slams shut.

"You're cute when you squirm."

"Are you taking my blindfold off yet?"

"So impatient. Give me a second."

I hear some movement before I feel Catherine lean down by my ear, her hands resting on the knot of the blindfold behind my head.

"I want you…" she pauses here for breath, or perhaps effect, "to keep your eyes closed after I remove this and then slowly count to five."

All I can do is nod. With Catherine this close, with my inner most desires dangling on the edge of reality, I don't think my voice will work properly.

"One..." the low raspy voice that falls out the moment the blindfold is gone proves my thinking right. "Two… Three… Four… Five…" I slowly open my eyes as I clear my throat and find that Catherine is standing before me, completely naked. Again, I don't count the shoes. My brain stupidly wonders when exactly it was that she took off her thong as my eyes drink in the sight before me. With a wry smile, Cat manages to hit the play button on the stereo behind her using the heel of her stiletto… without looking. My jaw drops.

_Electricity_

She walks over to me and I melt at her music choice.

_Eye to eye_

She straddles me close to my waist, sitting on top of the skirt I'm wearing, leaning down to whisper in my ear, her hands running through my hair, "I never would have imagined that the great Sara Sidle would enjoy being teased so much."

_Hey don't I know you? I can't speak_

Catherine slips off my lap and slowly hikes my skirt up.

_Stripped my senses on the spot_

She pushes my legs as far apart as they will go while tied to the chair, and dips her head in, teasing my thigh with her breath and the feather-light grazing of her lips. I know she can smell my arousal. Hell, I'm so wet, even I can smell it. I can just manage to see her licking her lips. She's summoning every ounce of restraint she has within her to "be good," a suspicion confirmed by the death grip her nails are using on my thighs. I'm sure it doesn't help her that I'm only getting wetter at the idea that she wants to taste me that badly.

_I've never been defenseless_

Catherine pulls herself up and begins to unbutton my shirt.

_I can't even make sense of this_

As she finishes with the last few buttons, she parts my shirt. I arch my back towards her, meeting only air until…

_You speak and I don't hear a word_

She runs her hands over my torso. Her touch is electric. I feel her sink in closer, allowing her bare body to graze over me. Out of reflex, I try to bring my hands up to pull her even farther in and then remember they're cuffed. Damn.

_What would happen if we kissed?_

Her lips hover close to mine. I part my mouth slightly in anticipation.

_Would your tongue slip past my lips?_

Her face brushes mine gently and she chuckles into my ear, moving her left leg over my right. I can feel the heat radiating from her on my thigh as she sort of hovers. An impulse runs through my brain, letting me know that she has unknowingly given me a slight advantage as she nips at my neck.

_Would you run away?_

Her eyes are on mine again, a devilish smile gracing her lips. She thinks _she_ has the advantage. I return her grin and take my chance. My ankle has just enough slack to pull it off.

_Would you stay?_

I move my right leg upwards, forcing my thigh upon her sex.

_Or would I melt into you…_

The results are instantaneous. We both do _melt_; Catherine at my sudden move, and I at how wet she is. With her distracted, I manage to lean forward and capture her mouth with mine as the music is forgotten.

I've dreamt of my first kiss with Catherine thousands upon thousands of times. Some dreams have been sweet, almost innocent. Others have been dirtier than our current situation. But no dream could ever accurately recreate the feelings and sensations that the reality sent coursing through every fiber of my being. The smell of Catherine's lust and desire mingled with my own. The taste of her lips and tongue as we explored each other's mouths, first slow then finally giving way to carnal appetites. The sound of her moaning into my mouth telling me, without words, that I was having the same effect upon her that she did on me. The feeling of her hands pulling with the perfect amount of force on my hair, a hold that somehow kept us both steady on the chair. The sight of her as she broke free for air and threw her head back as she ground herself against my thigh. All of it overloaded my senses and it became too much for me to bear.

"Cath, please…" Damn. I'm too drunk on the experience to form a coherent sentence. Fortunately, Catherine understands my plea. One of her hands grips my shoulder for balance while the other makes its way down my torso then disappears into my skirt. My eyes roll slightly as I feel fingertips graze my clit, but that's not where I need her right now. I shift slightly forward, eliciting a groan from Catherine as she feels my leg move, but it still gets my point across. Two fingers slip into me easily and curl against my front wall.

"Fuck!" I breathe as I slide further down in the seat, nearly throwing Catherine off. She manages to hang on though, so I figure I should reward her a little. I move my thigh in rhythm with her grinding. She pulls me close in response, fluttering her fingers inside me as she does. We both moan and pick up the pace. I feel my senses going into overdrive again. The smell of lust. The sound of whimpers and moans signaling near release. The feel of Catherine on my thigh and within me. The sight of Catherine as she arches her back and throws back her head, signaling that she is indeed on the edge of complete abandon. It's taste that's missing. Taste that I need. I lick my lips and lean forward, biting down on one of Catherine's nipples, allowing her orgasm to claim her.

"Oh, God, Sara…" the words are barely distinguishable, contorted by her cries of pleasure. I continue to suck and lick as I moan myself, my own release triggered by Catherine's. Then, just as I think I'm coming down, Catherine moves, and I feel one last huge wave rip through me as she leans in and bites my neck.

"Shit! Cath… uhn…" I collapse against the back of the chair, Catherine leaning into me as she slowly removes her hand from my skirt. I can hear her licking my taste off her fingers. I smile against her ear and say, "That was fucking amazing."

"Shit, Sidle. That was beyond amazing. If you can do that to me bound… Fuck, I can't imagine what you would do to me if I let you loose."

"Maybe you should find out."

Catherine leans back so she can look me in the eye. She bites her bottom lip as if to say, "Really?"

I cock an eyebrow and plaster a grin on my face indicating my consent before I lean in and capture her in another kiss. This time it remains slow and languid and deep, a kiss of gentle appreciation that could have gone on forever if Warrick hadn't suddenly burst into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said trying to suppress a triumphant laugh. It half worked. An amused chuckle came out instead. "Our perp just turned up after all."

"OK," Catherine replied, her eyes staring him down, "Give us a minute."

"Right." He shut the door.

"Back to work I guess," I said with a sigh.

"He's going to make his move on Cath tonight," Warrick said the moment I sat down at our table.

"What makes you say that?" On reflex, I draw a sip out of my coke and nearly gag as I realize that it's now half water.

"He saw you and Catherine come out of the private room. His face lit up like he'd just hit the jackpot. It's as if he knows she's in play now."

"We should warn Cath. Get her to get him to make a move." As luck would have it, our waitress chose that moment to check on us."

"Do you need anything?"

"Can you get Catherine over here?"

"Who?"

That's right; she's using that crazy stage name.

"Sorry, I mean Topaz."

"Again? Already?"

"I need her, right now. OK?"

"Alright, Sara, whatever you say."

Moments later, Catherine strides over and plops herself down into my lap.

"Miss me already?"

"Yes, but that's not why I called you over here, Topaz."

"Let me guess. You want me to make a move on our perv… I mean perp."

"Yep."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I'm thinking… you go over there and give him a lap dance. Hopefully, he'll ask for a private dance when you're done. You refuse; you end your shift soon after. He follows you out, you let him make enough of a move, and we bust him. Warrick's already called for backup. They know who and what to be looking for."

"Sounds like a plan. What about you guys. Where will you be?"

"Warrick will go signal the backup when we need them to be ready. I'll stay in here, just in case."

"Alright. Looks like it's my time to shine," Catherine said as she rose out of my lap, her fingertips dancing over my neck and cheek before she turned and headed in the direction of our perp's table. My eyes followed her, my mind recalling the encounter of just moments before. I had to turn away when I saw her settle into our perp's lap. Despite all our safeguards, I felt like I was sending her into the lion's den, and I couldn't bring myself to watch.

"You've got it bad, girlfriend," Warrick's voice broke my train of thought."

"Huh?"

"Catherine, you've got it bad for her."

I nod.

"I figured, the way you two fight all the time. I've never seen such heated arguments between two people."

I smile, and we're both silent for a moment.

"It's a shame you two didn't get around to releasing all that tension sooner. It would have saved me and the rest of the guys a lot of cold showers."

Wait… "What?"

"The sexual tension between you two has had the rest of us on edge for quite some time. You mean that you had no clue until tonight that that's what it was?"

"No," I shake my head to reinforce my response. "I only registered my own sexual tension."

"I suppose you two were so wrapped up in hiding your feelings that you didn't notice it in each other. And here I thought you just didn't want to mix work with pleasure."

"If that were the case, I would have tried to get out of this assignment."

"…Cath's heading to the dressing room… Our perp looks pissed."

I finally look back to where our guy was now standing, an enraged look on his face as he tossed some bills onto the table before storming off to the men's room.

"I'm going out to let our guys know to get ready. Keep an eye out and text me when our guy is heading out the door."

I nod, keeping my eye on the restrooms as I signaled the waitress for another coke.

As I sip my soda, I suddenly feel the atmosphere change. Something isn't right. On instinct, I get up and make my way to the dressing room. As I approach the door, it hits me. I've been around it so often, I can recognize it the moment even the slightest scent of it hits my nostrils. I smell blood. I hear my cries of Catherine's name as fear rips it over and over again from my lips when I discover that the door is locked. I feel a concerned hand on my shoulder and I turn. I see Lucy, her eyes going wide with horrific comprehension. I taste the bile rising from my throat and I try to suppress it as Lucy fumbles in her pockets for the key. Fuck this. It's taking too long. I kick in the door.

Catherine is sitting on the floor drenched in blood. Her eyes are focused on the motionless body lying before her, the body of our perp. One of her hands is gently rubbing her neck where there are visible bruises in the shape of a hand. Her other hand is clutching a heavy pair of fabric scissors.

"Cath?" the shortened version of her name rolls off my lips in the form of a question. She remains unresponsive.

"Cath!" this time loud and insistent.

"Wake up Willows," and I still get no response.

"Topaz?" a last ditch effort that's rewarded with a look of confusion followed by dawning realization.

"He came in through the air duct," Catherine says as she points up. "He was shouting all this crap about how it was my job to do whatever he was willing to pay for. Narcissistic prick."

I smiled at that in spite of the situation. It meant that the Catherine that we all knew and loved was still there. I reached to my hip to grab my phone out of its holster so I could let Warrick know what had happened. Catherine remained on the floor fairly motionless, but, at this point, I knew that it had more to do with her not wanting to disturb the evidence than it did with her being in some form of shock. Still, I could see her trembling.

"You're coming home with me tonight," the words were out of my mouth before my brain even had a chance to process what they meant.

"No, it's OK. I'm OK."

"Cath, no. I know you've left Lindsey with your sister for this case. I know you sent your mother out of town too. I'm not leaving you alone after this. You're coming home with me."

"Sar…" she looks up at me and knows a fight would be futile. Besides, if she feels the same way I do, she's realized that arguing now would be very counterintuitive.

"Alright, Sidle. Whatever you say."


	3. Chapter 3

"Christ!" Catherine screams into her locker. "Out of all nights, why do I have to run out of hair and body wash on this one?" We're back at the lab in the locker room. All the evidence had been collected and Catherine managed to get through giving a statement. It looked like everything would close well. Even though we couldn't lift any relevant prints (our perp had worn gloves), we had managed to get some of his epithelials out of the air duct. In addition, the bruise on Catherine's throat matched perfectly with the size of our perp's hand. No one doubted it was self-defense. And then Grissom gave us a couple of nights off (partly so Catherine could recover from the situation and partly to make up for the cost of the case itself). So, here we are in the locker room, with Catherine screaming about her lack of shampoo. Not that I blame her. I wouldn't want to keep a dead creep's blood on me any longer than I had to, and the soap that the department supplies is crap. So, I pull open my locker and hand her my secret stash.

"Pert?" Catherine asks skeptically.

"Nah. That's just the bottle I carry it in."

Catherine screws off the cap and takes a whiff. "Mmm… so this is why you smell so good all the time. What is this stuff?"

"Secret recipe."

"You make your own soap?"

"Sort of. It's a blend of different products I bought. I have a whole bucket of it at home so use as much as you need. Keep it if you want.

"Thanks."

"No sweat… I need some coffee. Meet me up in the break room when you're done?"

"Sure."

"Sweet!" I say as Greg hands me a cup of his secret stash when I enter the break room.

"You've earned it. It had to be weird to see Cath like that."

"Huh?" My first thoughts go to her stripping.

"You know, covered in blood."

"Oh, yeah. It was." I take a sip of my coffee and plop down on the couch.

"Is she OK?"

"I think so. She looked alright when I left her down in the locker room anyhow. Still, it was a rough thing for her to go through." I lose myself in thought for a moment, flashes of memory edging their way into my mind before I forcefully shake them away.

"Are you OK?" Greg asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired of staring at so many mostly naked women for the past two weeks."

"Yeah, sure." I catch the cheesy grin on Greg's face. I'm going to kill Warrick.

"I've seen you at the bars before," Greg counters the evil stare on my face. "Once, anyhow, when my cousin was in town. He dragged me to Lucy's. You seemed a little preoccupied with some blonde so I figured it wasn't the time for introductions."

I blushed into my mug. Alright, so Warrick doesn't have to die. Greg might, though. Now that this fact about me is on the table, he looks eager to start asking questions. Fortunately for him, his death was delayed when Catherine popped her head in just as he was bout to open his mouth again.

"Ready? I grabbed some spare clothes from my locker so we don't need to stop by my place."

"Yeah, let's go."

The drive to my apartment is quiet. Catherine's eyes stare out the window but remain unfocused and unseeing. I knew it would eventually come to this, but I don't press it. Not yet. I refuse to tell her while driving. I prefer not to tell her at all. But Catherine might need it, and, deep down, I realize that that's why I asked her to stay with me.

When I pull into a parking space and kill the engine, Catherine makes no acknowledgement that we've stopped. She's still staring vacantly out the window.

"Cat, we're here."

Nothing.

"You hungry? I've got a killer vegetable-tofu stirfry in the fridge." God, please let her say yes. Telling her will be so much easier over stirfry. Stirfry and a beer.

"Sure. Yeah. Stirfry."

Thank, God. We both slip out of the car and make a silent ascent up to my apartment.

Catherine seems to have switched back to herself once we're inside. Never having been here before, she occupies herself by wandering around, taking in her current surroundings. Meanwhile, I busy myself in the kitchen with the heating of dinner.

It's not until the food is on the table that the sound registers. The sound of running water. Water that I realize has been running for at least the past five minutes. Perhaps I won't get the chance to tell her over stirfry after all.

Just as I had suspected, Catherine is in my bathroom washing her hands fiercely, her back jerking in rhythm to what are obviously deep sobs. I watch her from the doorway for a moment before walking over to the sink and turning the water off. I grab a fresh towel from the cabinet above my toilet and then gently dry her raw hands before pulling her into a hug. She clings to me tightly, the spasms of her crying sending a knife through my heart. It hurts to see her like this. One of my hands finds its way into her hair, stroking it gently in an effort to calm her, and I breathe down into her ear, "Shh… It's alright. I promise."

"Sara, I killed a man. A sick, twisted, perverted asshole, but still a man. Up close. With a pair of scissors for Christ's sake! God, I can still feel his blood on me! Without warning, she swiftly turned away from me and back towards the sink. I somehow manage to grab her wrists and twirl her back around to face me.

"Honey, it's gone. The blood is gone. And if you spend any more time washing your hands, you'll strip the skin clean off." I bring her hands up to my lips and kiss her knuckles as I swing us around so that I'm closer to the sink. I then spin Catherine around once more and gently nudge her out the door as I follow, my left hand darting back behind me to grab a bottle of lotion from the counter.

I usher Catherine to my bed and force her to sit before I plop down next to her and take her hands in mine to gently apply the lotion. "Do you want to tell me what happened, exactly?" I ask. She nods in relief, as if she's been waiting for permission to hoist this burden onto someone who can listen with a sympathetic ear.

"I had done as planned. He was pissed when I denied him a private dance. I pretty much went straight to the dressing room after that. I pulled on my sweats. Changed my shoes. And then, I heard something. Something that sounded like creaking metal. Before I knew what was happening, that-that prick had knocked the cover to the air duct off and jumped down. A moment later, his hand was on my throat. I tried to back away, to break free, but he just moved with me. He was screaming about how it was my job to make him fee like a king. And I just kept backing up.

"Eventually, I bumped into a dressing table. My hands groped behind me, searching for something, anything I could use as a weapon. I found the scissors. But I was beginning to lose consciousness. The room was fading. I made one, desperate swing with all the strength I had. And I got him in the neck. And… and…"

"Everything was drenched in red."

Catherine nodded, her tears coming back slowly.

I pulled her back into my arms and said, "He would have killed you if you hadn't found a way to stop him. You know that, right?"

I felt a nod.

"It was self-defense."

Another nod.

"I know you feel bloodstained, but you're still a good person. This one act doesn't change that."

This time, there's a half-hearted attempt at a nod before I feel Catherine resign to shaking her head. She pulls away from me and stares down at the floor, dropping her head into her hands. I take a deep breath and brace myself. This is where it really begins, what's been building up in her since she stabbed that creep in the neck.

"A part of you enjoyed it, didn't it?"

Catherine starts to shake her head but then changes to a nod of affirmation. She looks up, wonder in her face. She doesn't understand how I can possibly know that. All I can do is stand up and head for the door. If I'm going to tell her this, I've decided that I'm definitely doing it over stirfry and beer, no questions asked. Catherine just sits there staring.

"Well, come on," I say. "I'm not telling you this story on an empty stomach."

There's a moment of silence as we chew and swallow. Quite frankly, I know I need to eat, and if I don't do that now, before I tell my tale, I won't have any appetite left. Besides, the tofu calms me, as weird as that may sound.

Once I'm through about half my bowl, I clear my throat and Catherine looks up, attentive, eager almost. I take a long swig of my bear, a deep breath, and begin.

"I was dating this guy back in college my freshman year. A frat guy of all people. But he didn't seem like the rest of his bros. He was charming and sweet. He didn't act like the morons his friends were." I stop and drain my bottle then pull another from the six-pack I left sitting on the table. I pop the cap off and take another long drink. Catherine is staring at me, breathless. She wants me to continue. No, she _needs_ me to continue. She may not survive herself if I don't. It's enough of a reason for me to give her this one, intimate detail. Just breathe, Sidle.

"Anyhow, he gave me that whole spiel about respecting me as a person and waiting until I was ready. Blah, blah, blah." (That's it, play it down, just a tad. It'll make the memory hurt a little less.) "And then, during spring break, he throws this party at his parents' beach house. Lord knows where they were at the time. Europe I think. So we all got _trashed_, and when I say _trashed_ I mean completely _fucked up_. Some of us were drunk, some high, some tripping or whatever, some were every combination possible. I think I was mostly drunk, but I was a little baked too. At any rate, I was out of it enough to let him lead me up the stairs to his bedroom.

"It wasn't until he closed and locked the door that I even realized where we were. I wanted out and I told him so, but he had the key, and he had other plans. He tossed me to the bed. God, I was so fucked I could barely utter 'no.' But I said it dammit, and I know he understood me because he said not to worry. There were other things we could do. He'd be 'good.' He wouldn't 'violate' me."

By this point, Catherine is softly shaking her head, her eyes wide with horror, but I can tell she still needs me to go on.

"I heard him unzip his fly, heard him telling me to open my mouth, and for some ungodly reason I did. I felt him thrust into my mouth, testing my gag reflex, but I fight it. I fight the urge to vomit until I realize that I can taste and smell his sweat. When I looked up and saw that smug smile on his face, I couldn't hold back. I threw up all over his dick. To this day, I wish I could have held it back. Because as soon as I blew chunks, I felt a hand close around my throat, his grip growing tighter as he screamed obscenities while he used his other hand to slap me hard across the face, repeatedly. And, like you, I was losing consciousness. Like you, all I could do was reach out and hope to God that I would find something to use as a weapon. Like you, I found something sharp, in my case a hunting knife on the bedside table. And like you, I swung with all my might, hoping I'd hit him somewhere. In my case, it was his stomach. And, like you, there was a part of me that enjoyed the retribution I was delivering. But unlike you, I didn't get to have a cute girl sitting across from me telling me a story over cold stirfry about how she killed a man and enjoyed it a little. I could have used it though. It would have been nice to know that I wasn't alone." I finally stop. Catherine is still just staring. For something to do, I shovel another bite of stirfry in my mouth even though I'm no longer hungry.

"Christ, Sara! You should have enjoyed killing that bastard, the way he was taking advantage of you. And then beat you while trying to strangle you. Why should you feel guilty about it at all?"

"Well, your bastard had killed four girls before trying to kill you. Mine hadn't been in a spot of trouble before he tried to kill me, and he had a 4.0 GPA."

And, at that, Catherine Willows doubles over in laughter. I'm chuckling a bit myself, and, before long, I'm laughing just as hard. Once we calm down, Catherine takes a deep breath and says "We're horrible people." But a smile plays on her lips.

"Yes, we are… But seriously, Cath, it'll get easier. You just need to realize one thing."

"What?"

"You're supposed to feel guilty." Catherine snaps a look of surprise at me. Whatever she had been expecting me to say, it clearly hadn't been that.

"Don't misunderstand me. The trick to that is, because you feel guilty, you know you're still a good person. So, own you're guilt Catherine, just don't let it own you… You want some tea?"

"Sure."

Ten minutes later, I hand Catherine a mug and settle down next to her on my couch. We sipped in silence for a while, Cath still mulling over everything I had said before finally speaking.

"Thanks, Sar, for this. You were right. I shouldn't have been left alone tonight." Catherine set her mug down and wrapped her arms around me. I placed my mug on the end table before returning the embrace, pulling her in close. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I could smell the scent of my homemade soap on Catherine's skin and in her hair. I could see the sparkle in Catherine's eyes when she leaned back, a sparkle that told me that this was far more than a private dance. And I could taste the remnants of tea on Cath's lips and tongue when she leaned in to kiss me. We allowed ourselves to take our time, relishing in the way we responded to each other before finally braking apart. I pressed my forehead against hers, an evil smile playing across my lips.

"So, you wanna see what I can do when I'm not bound?"

--

Hope you all enjoyed it. If you would like a companion piece told from Cath's POV let me know. And I'll do my best to finish a story and post all chapters at once if I can.


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